Cleansing Rain
by Dali2theLlamasquared
Summary: The critical battle of good versus evil has occured. These are the thoughts and emotions of a boy that has gone through the battle. Guess who it is! Disclaimer: The song usedBring on the Rain owned by Jo Dee Messina. Just see my other disclaimers.


Another day has come and gone 

_Can't imagine what else could go wrong_

He slipped tiredly into his bed, exhausted from the day's load.  Life had been harsh on him, that was for sure.  But today...today was worse.  Today was a day to be hated of all days of his life...

He could remember what happened, see it clearly through his mind's eye.  The stench was prevalent, hanging in the air like a dense and moist fog.  It made him want to throw up, that smell.  The sight was just as bad.  The bodies lay all over the place, those of his friends and his enemies.  The battle had been fought, and fought so hard...the Headmaster was brilliant in his role, just no quick enough.  Not quick enough to catch the traitor that had been in their midst.

They had almost won this battle, too.  A critical battle, the crisis of the ongoing story.  The plan had been perfect.  It was a simple but wonderful idea.  They were to sneak up on them during the middle of the day right after they had sent some of their spies over to "liven them up" so to speak.  But the army had come too soon.  The message that caught up with them had given them wrong information, saying that it was time.  But it wasn't.  Only a few had become drunk; only a few had succumbed.

But regardless, they had almost won...if only that, that _traitor_ hadn't come up, hadn't shown the Dark Ones how to come inside, out of the light and able to fight. After that, all was undone.  It was the end of it all.  The battle was lost, along with so many men and women, creatures and beings, who had helped them, had been cared for and cared in return.  Even his own...

Unwillingly was his mind drawn back to that moment, seeing her body just lying there, limply, her shattered sword beside her.  He had run towards her, his mind forcing the panic back.  He must be seeing things, or maybe he was missing something...

He tried desperately to revive her any way he knew how, using spells, charms, anything to wake her up.  But all she did was lie there, her skin beginning to bruise where she had lain so long...

Sometimes I'd like to hide away 

_Somewhere and lock the door_

He had run from the silent field, away from the oppressing feelings that were about to engulf him.  This was just too much.  The pressures and feelings and worries had been piling up the last few years, but he had been able to ignore them.  Until then, until that moment when everything came rushing down.  It hurt so badly, physically dragging him down.

He ran as fast as he could towards his own little secret hole where he went in times like these: times when he needed to be alone to mourn.  He let the door shut tightly behind him, leaning against the wall, then sliding down its earthen dirt as he let himself sit, his knees bent with him chin resting on them.  His eyes filled with a sadness unlike any able to be put into words.

He had lot so many friends in these few years.  Classmates had come and gone, had fought and died or gone insane.  Even teachers had died.  Hogwarts had made a gravesite the first year of the war, where its staff and students had been buried.  Their Herbology teacher was the first to be buried there, followed but weeks later by Cho Chang and Fred Weasley.  George had been furious beyond measure, and fought in battle valiantly before being laid beside his brother three weeks later.  A statue of the twins now stands next to the Gryffindor Tower, rightly deserved.

There were many more deaths, some of which broke his hear to pieces.  Some such people as Bill Weasley, Professor Minerva McGonagall, and Professor Severus Snape had died.  Reports have been going around about the Professors' deaths, though Snape's was the worst; no wonder in that.  It amazed him, how war could bring such diverse people together in love and camaraderie, who probably would have been enemies all of heir lives...they trusted each other with their lives countless times.

_A single battle lost,_

_But not the war..._

As he sat, a thought occurred to him, unwelcome as it was.  There was no more hope.  This was it.  The end.  They had lost the battle, but could they really win the war?  The odds were against them to such a point as to make it impossible.  They had lost their leader, Headmaster Dumbledore, and had been betrayed by one whom they had trusted so implicitly...the thought was almost unthinkable.  Almost.  But it was there, right before their eyes.  A time of darkness was about to envelop them entirely, and he didn't know if he had enough strength to survive.  He had already seen so much pain, so much evil in his life...

He shook his head as he lay in bed, letting the shadows of this recent memory dissipate with his thoughts as the numb arms of sleep enveloped his weary soul...

'Cuz tomorrow's another day 

_And I'm thirsty anyway_

_So bring on the rain_

A pain shot through his body, a memory that triggered a dream...

It was darker than night, no light to pierce the darkness.  He stood there, but only by sheer will.  It felt like gravity had decided to make itself known beyond belief, making his body feel like it weighed over a ton.  A voice called out to him, familiar and unrelenting.  "You did nothing."  He tried to close his ears, to keep out the voice.  "You are nothing."  Closing his ears wasn't working.  "You are not your own."  He wanted to scream from the agony of having to hear these words.  "You are mine."  He shouted out loud, the voice of his father echoing through his head mercilessly.

Another voice came to him.  The voice was feminine, and filled with pain and disappointment.  "You could have been so much."  The torment was tearing his heart to pieces.  "You could have turned away."  He could feel a burning sensation on his arm, and he grabbed it bitterly.  "You could have been so powerful, my little one."  He could feel the tears come to his face.  "You could have been close to me, my child, but you were afraid."  He wished he could pound his head on something, but there was nothing there to pound on.  "You could have tried, could have loved, could have cared, could have saved me; but you did not!"  The words accused him on all sides, the voice pounding in his head.  "You did not!"  It seared his heart into two very separate pieces.  "Why?"

A chorus of voices, both of friend and foe, answered the question before he could.  The voices of his friends were scornful; his enemies', sarcastic.  He held his head in his hands, pressing his temples, eyes clenched closed.  "Coward!  Weakling!"  He closed his eyes tighter.  "Worthless!  Stupid!  Traitor!"  He cringed, rolling up into a little ball, trying desperately to think of something else.  "Murderer!"  His jaw clenched tightly, not wanting to hear any more.

One last voice echoed through his head, that of a girl he knew.  "I never loved you."

Seems like the hard time circle 'round 

He woke up, his body drenched with sweat.  The moon shone brightly above him, a huge orb of light against the blackened sky.  The stars were obscured by murky black clouds.  He shuddered at the sight of them; he only saw those clouds when the Dark Lord was victorious in the latest battle.  At least it was only to be for this one night...

He trembled as he shoved the sheets off of him and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.  He raked his hands through silky strands of hair, grown longer since the war had begun.

He sat in utter silence, trying to calm down his rapid heart.  He attempted to force the memories about to wash over him away, but he was unable to.  The came unbidden...

He was a child again, cowering in the corner of his room, the whip about to come down on him.  He could feel the pain again, fee the bits of glass on the ends of the whip lash themselves into his flesh, being torn back out, taking with them skin, blood, and his innocence.  A harsh laughter sliced through the room before another memory could surface...

He now stood in the hallways of Hogwarts, alone, by himself, quietly leaning against the wall.  He was shaking hard, his own blood beginning to dry on his hands.  He had almost not made it through that one...

He could hear footsteps coming towards him, coming closer.  He tried desperately to melt into the wall, but unfortunately could not.  He could hear the girl's shriek, then rapid footsteps...towards him?  Coming towards him?  He would think they would go away from him and leave him in quiet thought and retrospect...drat it all.

He felt the girl's presence near him, then a soft touch on his arm, the barest of brushes.  Then why did he feel a chill down his spine?  Must be loss of blood...dratted weakness...

She spoke, her voice soft yet unsure, wavering a little.  "Are...are you okay?"

He felt like biting back, _"No, I'm just sitting here and letting my blood drip out of my body so I can die and leave this blasted world!"_  But this was too close to his actual feelings.  Maybe all of these beatings would finally kill him someday...Instead, he responded with a quiet, blank voice, devoid of everything and anything near emotion.  "I will be fine.  Leave me in peace."

The girl was undeterred, firmly but gently grasping his uncut hand and pressing it warmly.  "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing.  You're liable to die, just lying here..."

_No, really.  Thank you for reminding me; what a way to go!  Remembering the words 'you're liable to die' right before your death...  _"_No_.  No...just take me to the forest, if you so want to do something."  He spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes closed in annoyance.  He could feel her reluctance through the silence and the tension in the air, humming around her.  He smiled a little to himself at her indecision as his life faded away...he had lost too much blood to stay conscious much longer...

She finally spoke as he began to lose his grip on reality.  "If you insist..." but he heard no more.

A few drops, and they all start coming down 

He was in the Hospital Wing again, according to the new memory.  He opened his eyes stiffly, his sight blurred slightly by the stark glare of the white walls.  She was sitting by his side.  He could feel her hands clasping his tightly.  He smiled weakly at her.  She had been there for him always, and for that he was grateful.  She had kept his secret, been his friend.  He was still slightly surprised at her determination to stay by him at al times.  It truly amazed him...but then again, she seemed to like him...

_No!_  His mind shouted, berating him for even the thought of such an idea.  _You cannot have this!  There shall not be, cannot be, any love in your life.  That is final._  He had to break this relationship, but how to do it without hurting her?...

This scene faded soon, replaced only by another memory, this time with the two in a heated argument, face to face, standing and shouting.  He winced as he watched his former self yell at the one person who had touched his heart like no other.

"Leave me alone!"  His image spoke rigidly and harshly at the girl, now a young lady, before him.  "Don't you understand?  Don't you realize that it is done?  It is finished!  There's no more to be said."

She responded immediately.  "It is _not_ finished.  There's much more to be said.  There must be something...!"  A flicker of hope rose within her eyes.

"_No_," he growled harshly.  "It is too late for second chances."  He bared his arms, the ugly and malignant mark vivid on his pale skin.  He smiled wickedly.  "This is the end.  Now get away from me, you pathetic excuse of a woman."  He sneered as he pushed past her, swirling into the darkness.  He looked creepily like the Potions Master, robes billowing behind him.  Except, of course, for the eye color and the like.

He watched from the corner as the girl crumpled to the floor, hands clasped and crushed to her heart, tears streaming down her face.  A pitiable sight to behold.  He could see his former self in the shadows, leaning against the tree, knowing this could be the only way to keep her from harm, if they were apart and she thought he was an evil, dastardly Death Eater.  She need never know he was working as a spy.  And she had better not start thinking he could be changed in any way and be used as a spy.  It was all for the best...

_Oh I might feel defeated,_

_I might hang my head_

He watched another memory come to his mind, this time of the lovely young woman holding a deadly sword, locked in battle with a Death Eater.  Two other Death Eaters were about to take her down from behind, but one of their own took them down swiftly.  The young woman had just enough time to watch the other Death Eater vanish into the distance, into nothingness.  She swiftly dispatched the Death Eater before her, then ran towards where the person had vanished.  She found nothing in the man's wake except for a perfectly kept long-stemmed black rose, lying there undamaged and fresh.  She picked it up gently, then magically melted it into her sword.  _Oh, if only you knew..._

She kept on fighting, and whenever she had trouble coming and didn't know it, a Death Eater came up and helped her.  A guardian angel of sorts, in a very different way.  And all she knew was that there was a secret undercover man in the Death Eater's midst, and that he had saved her numerous times.  She would know who he was.

He smiled slightly as he watched her bewildered expression.  How beautiful she was...but he could not claim this love.  This love was for the man he could have been.

He could feel the next memory coming up.  He wished he could block it out of his head...

_I might be barely breathing,_

_But I'm not dead..._

He was standing in the middle of a field in the dark of the night.  There was no moon that night.  They surrounded him on all sides, and he didn't like it at all.  He had already lost his wand, and was now down to the last few weapons on his own body.  This was hopeless.  He raised his hands in surrender.

"What do you want with me?"  He stood quietly, waiting for the words to come.

One of them came towards him, a tall one with coal black hair and pale skin, thin but muscular.  He bowed at him and straightened.  "It is good to finally meet you, sir.  We have been watching you for quite some time, and have decided," he said, pausing a moment, then continuing, "to make you one of our group.  That is, if you do not object?"

He hesitated, eyebrow raised, then said, "What if I refuse you?"

"Ahh, now; if you refuse, we will simply send you back on your way..."  The man saw his wide-open mouth and smiled.  "We battled you to make sure our opinion of you was correct.  But," he continued, "if you do not join us, our kind will not help your side.  And, according to what I've seen, you need all the help you can gather."  He smiled.  "Is it a deal?"  He held out his hand.

_Between a dragon and a sea monster_, he thought to himself.  He thought for a moment, and then continued.  "Where does the bite hurt least?"  He shook the vampire's outstretched hand.

The vampire smiled, making chills run down his spine.  "Good, and it hurts least at the wrist."  He took the young man's wrist and held it gently to his lips.  "And welcome to our kind."  He watched as the vampire sucked on his former self's skin, puncturing into the bloodstream, and his former self weakening by the seconds.  He watched himself convulse, twitch, lie senseless on the ground, the transformation done.

He compared himself with his former self, wondering how things had come to be.  He had not just changed and adjusted physically, but there were little, more subtle differences.  His face had become grimmer, more strained.  It had lost its innocence and youth, if there had ever been either in his life.  His eyes had hardened and become darker, losing their spark.  His lips had tightened, and his whole person had become harder, more taciturn, less emotional.

One thought hit him squarely, though.  He was an immortal, true, but he was also dead to the world, dead to the people that surrounded him.  It was a good thing he was playing the Death Eater, what with the masks and such.  His mask, of course, was a special one with no openings, instead made of glass and thin sheets of gold, letting him see out but others unable to see in.  And the sun was impenetrable.  But what kind of existence was this?  What kind of life could he live as a vampire, especially now, when the critical battle had been lost and his cover had been thrown to the wind?...

'Cuz tomorrow's another day 

Thoughts of the battle erupted from the back of his mind.  This might be his last night to ever sleep again...the Dark Ones already knew he was on the Light side with Dumbledore, just as the vampires who worked for his cause were called the Light Ones.  It seemed hopeless, utterly hopeless for them all.  Death was unavoidable at this point.

He let his gaze drift towards the small window of his hideout.  From the outside, it looked like a small knot in a tree.  From the inside, it was a lookout and a window of at least some solace to him.  But not tonight.  Tonight, he saw the sun begin to make its way over the horizon.  He immediately shut the window's curtain, wondering.  This was the next day.  What will happen?  An immediate attack by the Dark Ones and those they worked with or a regaining of strength?  He didn't want to think about it; he was depressed enough as it was...

And I'm thirsty anyway 

His stomach growled mightily.  He had not eaten for a long time, and he was ravenous.  But it was light outside.  He could do nothing unless he was in a blackened room.  He wondered if it would be better to simply let his hunger eat him up inside, to starve himself until his own death.  He already knew life on this earth would be hell from here on in; there was no more reason to live, to keep up the façade and fool others—even himself—of what could never be.  He would be hunted, searched, captured, tortured, and eventually killed.  Not the life he wanted.  Death would be preferable to the life destined to him at the moment.

So bring on the rain 

He looked towards the window once again.  The light from the outside dimmed the light in the room until there was utter darkness.  He wondered what could be happening outside.  He didn't care much if he burned up in the sun, so he opened the curtains.  He waited for a terrible burning sensation, an unbearable feeling of scorched flesh and innards, being incinerated into nothingness.  But there was no burning sensation.  Nothing but darkness outside.  The sun could not be seen in the sky.  This was it.  The darkness of the Dark Lord's victory only lasted for that day of battle; this was no ordinary darkness (in comparison to the other, more temporary darkness).  This was a depressing, permanent darkness that would last as long as Dark reigned.  He wondered if he would ever even have the chance to be burned into oblivion by the sun...

He silently went towards the opening of the little hidden nook and stepped outside.  He stood, shivering in the cold, wondering to himself.  Why?  Why did this have to happen?  Why did the ones he love have to go through so much?  And why did he have to carry this burden?

No answers came to him.  Only the breeze answered him, lightly ruffling his hair.  He shivered once more, staring up at the hot, angry clouds above him.  Anger rushed through him, just as an elf can rush through a tiny village without being seen.  He balled his hands up in a fist and raised them towards the sky, shouting as he shook his fists at the malignant clouds.  "Why?" he growled—almost screamed—at the clouds.  "Why now?  Why me?"  He stood with his face turned up towards the clouds, daring them to strike him down dead.

In response, the ominous clouds broke through and gave way to regular, ordinary, grey rain clouds, covering up the sun from his delicate marble-toned skin.  They began to pour forth a tremendous deluge of water on him, drenching him from head to foot.  He stood in awe at the clouds, mesmerized by the rain.  The raindrops pounded on his skin.  As each drop fell, he felt a little calmer, a little more assured.  Like the soothing mists of a waterfall, so these raindrops healed the young man.  He knew there was imminent danger up ahead, but for now, he could relax a little, let the worries slip off his body, to be picked up a little later.  But for now, he would enjoy the moment.  Just this once...

Oh, I'm not gonna let it get me down 

_I'm not gonna cry_

He stood a few more minutes there, letting the wonderfully refreshing rain pelt through his clothing and wash his feelings away.  He was left to amazement and wonder at all these things, and let the calmness pervade his entire being, just a little happy to be living for once I his life.

He slowly made his way back to his place of rest and smiled as he opened his curtains to view the rain once more.  Most think of rain as a gloomy, depressing thing that spoils a day's fun and activities.  But for him, today, it was a sure blessing and a sign of a renewal of life.  It was an uplifting and cleansing thing that made his day all the more bright.  He could not quit yet.  Let the odds be condemned in their stupidity.  There was much he needed to do.  He would not let those he loved die in vain, nor would he die in vain.

And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight 

He turned back towards the small pallet in the room and smiled.  He levitated it to the ceiling, then kept it there with a simple binding charm.  And with that, he promptly changed into a bat and closed the curtains to the window, then flew up towards the mattress.  He hung onto the mattress and fell fast asleep as the day began outside for the mortals of the world, saying one last goodnight to his red-headed love and wishing curses upon curses on the boy with the lightning scar, the betrayer.  _And this is Draco Malfoy, signing off...for the moment..._

'Cuz tomorrow's another day 

_And I am not afraid_

_So bring on the rain_

_For tomorrow's another day_

_And I'm thirsty anyway_

_So bring on the rain_


End file.
